


Reparations in the Aftermath

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Backstory, Dad!Cabe, Emotional Conversations, F/M, Gen, Karaoke, Post 2x24, Secret Marriage, Tequila, Toby is a hipster, father/son bonding, references to childhood abuse, references to violence, semi-charmed life, underage marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cabe comes back to take care of a drunken, miserable Toby. Toby responds by calling Cabe "Dad" and dragging him to karaoke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reparations in the Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lattelibrapunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lattelibrapunk/gifts).



> For my lovely Tara, whose heart is very sad and needs a smile.

Toby watches Walter dart out of the door with determination Toby remembers having.

“Oh sure,” he says, drinking tequila from the bottle. “I hear Walter profess his love. I don’t get to know about my girlfriend being married, but I get to hear Walter’s revelation. Goody!” He slumps against the couch, and he can tell he’s pouting miserably. “I hate everything right now.”

He kicks back on the couch and is apparently drunker than he realized, because he forgets that people can’t drink while horizontal and ends up spilling tequila all over his face while choking.

“Fuck!” He rolls off the couch, setting the bottle on the table as he pulls off his shirt and mops up the place before it seeps into the couch and makes the place smell like a tequila bar.

“The hell did I walk in on?” shouts Cabe.

Toby looks up at him, startled. “Hi,” Toby says, “I’m drunk and sad and I spilled my tequila.”

“I can see that,” Cabe says. “Get up. You got a change of clothes?”

Toby nods. “Got a bag in –” He pauses. “In Happy’s truck.” He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to control the feeling of burning agony that’s welling his chest, like he’s being crushed slowly. “Cabe, I gotta go home.”

Cabe frowns. “Happy’s truck is in the parking lot,” he says. “I think she took her bike when she – when she left.”

“Oh,” Toby replies, “so I have a pair of pants, but not my girlfriend. Awesome.” He stands up. “Cabe, love stinks.”

“Yeah, yeah, J. Geils.” He smiles at Toby. “Get your stuff. I’m taking you out.”

“You’re what?” Toby asks. “Cabe, I need to find Happy.”

“No,” Cabe says. “You need to let her figure things out on her own. The more you push her, the more she’ll feel trapped. You need to let her come to you.”

“But I hate that,” Toby whines, sitting on the arm of the couch. He looks up at Cabe. “I miss her.”

Cabe groans. “Alright, put the tequila down, get your bag, and we’re going to a bar. Getting drunk. All that.”

Toby stands up. “What if the truck is locked and I can get my stuff?”

Cabe pushes him out the door. “Just go and check.”

It’s unlocked, his bag nestled next to Happy’s in the back seat. It hasn’t been touched – Toby wonders if she left the truck on purpose. He glances over to where she keeps her bike. It’s gone.

“Come back to me soon, okay?” he says quietly, patting the side of Happy’s truck. “I don’t want to miss you for too long.”

He grabs his bag and closes the door, trying not to be too hopeful that Happy will be there the next time he looks, and walks back into the garage. Cabe is essentially a drill sergeant with the whole getting dressed thing, and Toby keeps trying to explain to him that it’s really difficult to put on a pair of jeans that are a size too small around the ass when you’re already drunk and getting dressed in a bathroom the size of a closet.

Toby only slightly gets stuck in his tee shirt, and Cabe’s shoving Toby’s hat on his head as they walk out the door.

“I’m not driving,” Toby says. “Because I drove here with Happy, and also because I am drunk.”

“You’re going to have to stop announcing that you’re drunk, or they’re not going to let us into any bar,” Cabe says, sliding into the driver’s seat of his car. “Pull it together, Doc.”

Toby slumps against the back of the seat. “Happy calls me Doc.”

Cabe thumps him on the back of the head. “We all call you Doc, Doc,” Cabe says firmly. “Pull it together.” He pats Toby’s shoulder. “Put on some music.”

Toby thinks Cabe regrets that decision when Toby turns on the radio and hears Katy Perry.

“Oh, awesome!” Toby exclaims, trying to feel excited about something. “This is a great song. No, Cabe,” he pats Cabe’s arm, “Cabe, this song speaks to me.”

“It’s Katy Perry,” Cabe says, eyes on the road, “what the hell could she possibly have to say?”

“Okay, you knew it was Katy Perry without me telling you, we’ll get back to that later,” Toby says, leaning against the back of the seat. “But hot and cold? Oh, man,” Toby sighs. “Happy’s hot,” he holds up one hand, “and then she’s cold, like tonight,” he holds up the other hand. “I don’t mean, like, radiation hot and freezing at the south pole cold, I mean –”

“I get the metaphor, Toby,” Cabe says. He sighs. “I know you’re hurting, bud, but is there anything else you think we should do other than wallow?”

Toby has a million things he knows he wants to do. He wants to go gamble and lose the goddamn shirt off his back to prove he was never good enough for Happy in the first place, to convince himself she’s better off without him. He wants to drown himself in liquor to the point of no return, black out so that for a short time in his life he’s not feeling this ache. He wants to cry like he did when his mother died, endless and bitter and broken.

But what he needs to do is have a frilly drink at the bar, something fruity and delicious that Cabe will make fun of, get up and do some embarrassing karaoke, and go home and sleep. He forces his rational mind to overcome his impulsivities. Happy may have left, Happy may have pulled the rug out from under him, but he won’t do that to her. He made a promise: no more gambling. And he’s going to keep it.

Toby thinks for a moment. “I’ve got this bar –”

“No gambling!” Cabe says, so forcefully that Toby gets a flashback to this one time when a high school teacher found him drawing anatomically accurate drawings of pinup models instead of taking notes. The expressions and tones of voice were similar.

“They don’t gamble there!” Toby says. He puts on a dramatic tone. “It is another vice I seek in The Weathered Tavern.”

Cabe looks over to him at the red light, frowning. “We’re not about to get stuck in a room with hookers, right? I am law enforcement.”

Toby groans. “It’s karaoke, Cabe,” he sighs. “Though I appreciate how highly you think of me.”

“After what you just went through, I was expecting anything,” Cabe says. “It’s nothing on your character, kid. It’s all the circumstances.” He frowns as the light turns green. “Though I am judging you a bit for the karaoke.”

“Shut up,” Toby says. “It’s fun.”

They get to the bar and Toby gets greeted with a smile by the bartender.

“Hey, Tobias!” she says. “The usual.”

“Three cherries this time, Emma,” Toby adds.

“They call you Tobias here?” Cabe mutters.

Toby shrugs. “I go by my full name sometimes. Keeps things interesting.”

“Yeah, because our team is always boring,” Cabe says with what Toby would consider a full-body eye roll. “I’ll have a beer, whatever IPA you got.”

Toby scoffs. “Hipster.”

“The hell’s that even mean?” Cabe asks.

Toby pats him on the shoulders. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Paige called you a hipster once because of the hat,” Cabe says, frowning. “Are you a hipster?”

“No!” Toby replies. Then the reality washes over him. “Oh, fuck, am I a hipster?”

“You’re doing karaoke in a bar wearing a fedora,” Cabe deadpans. “You’re something.”

Toby’s quiet for a minute, and then he takes both his and Cabe’s drinks, leading them to a quieter booth away from the karaoke where they can talk.

“You okay, kid?” Cabe asks gently.

“Cabe, are you my dad?” Toby says after his first sip of his tequila sunrise with extra grenadine and three cherries. Happy always made fun of him for getting two cherries, so he insisted on three this time. His own personal way of spiting her.

Cabe stares at him over his beer. “What?”

“I mean, you’re Walter’s dad, we all know that,” Toby says, “and you call all of us ‘kid’.” He looks up at Cabe. “You’re our dad!”

Cabe drops his head onto the table. “I take you out after the day you’ve had, and you call me your dad. Wonderful.”

“It’s a good dad thing!” Toby says. “You’re not gambling away my college fund or leaving me at home when my mom’s having an episode.” He sighs. “You’ve also never forgotten me at the grocery store. Or at the race tracks. Or at –”

“Toby, stop,” Cabe says firmly. Toby looks at him and the concern on his face is enough to make Toby really think about what his life looks like right now. Drunk in a bar, drinking an overly sweet tequila sunrise with a coworker who turned into his family. His girlfriend rejected his proposal, not because she doesn’t love him, but because she’s already married. He’s broken and bitter and miserable, but he could be worse. He could be alone.

“Okay,” Toby says quietly. “I’ll stop.”

Cabe frowns at him. “You okay, kid?”

Toby nods. “I might actually be dying,” he determines, “but yeah. I’m okay.”

Cabe’s smile is sad and comforting at the same time, an echo of a past they don’t quite know about yet.

“We don’t know anything about each other,” Toby realizes. “You, me, the whole team. We don’t even know where you grew up, where Paige went to college,” he eats a cherry, “who Happy was before Scorpion.”

There’s a pensive silence for a moment.

“I grew up in Indiana,” Cabe offers. “Farmland, rural area. The works. Had a couple of friends until we graduated high school.” He picks at the label on his beer bottle. “I went to college and fast tracked into the FBI, they stayed in our little town.” He looks down. “Never went back until my parents died when I was twenty-five. Haven’t been back since. Met Rebecca when I was twenty three, married her when I was twenty four. Had Amanda when we were twenty six.” Cabe smiles at Toby. “So there. Now you know a little more about me.” He holds out his glass. “No more secrets.”

Toby smiles back at him as he clinks their glasses. “Thanks, Cabe.”

It’s the past Toby had assumed – Cabe’s always been one of the more open books Toby’s read, but hearing it from Cabe, hearing it from Cabe's mouth, is comforting.

When Toby finishes his drink, he pops the last cherry in his mouth. “Alright, Cabe,” he says, dropping his drink on the table. “I’m fully saturated with tequila, I’m stupid, and I’m sad. It’s time to sing.”

“No,” Cabe says, shaking his head. “Toby, I think we should –”

“Would you rather sing Tom Petty, Katy Perry, or Goo Goo Dolls?” Toby asks.

“Considering I only consider Tom Petty a musician –”

“Right, Third Eye Blind, what am I thinking?” Toby says, waving it off. He yanks Cabe’s arm. “We’re singing Semi-Charmed Life.”

“Semi-what who?” Cabe asks in complete confusion. “I don’t know that song.”

“You’ll learn it,” Toby assures him, walking up to the DJ. “It’s catchy.”

They only have to wait through a young woman’s rendition of _Love is a Battlefield_ and a surprisingly old gentleman’s warble of _American Pie_ minus at least half the verses before their turn comes up.

“I still don’t know the lyrics,” Cabe tries to say, but Toby’s already dragging him onstage before he can finish his sentence.

The familiar guitar chords, ones that echoed near daily in his preteen and teen years, ring out from the speakers. Cabe watches him singing the “doo doo”s like Toby’s on crack, but Toby doesn’t care. He remembers every lyric.

“I want something else,” Toby half yells, half sings, “I’m not listening when you say goodbye.” The next set of “doo doo”s catch in his chest, but he powers through it.

“Cabe, come on,” Toby says in between lyrics, “Doo doos!”

“What are you saying?”

“You can do the doo doos, at bare minimum,” Toby insists. “I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life –” He gestures to Cabe for the “baby, baby,” party. Cabe does not sing.

Cabe just sort of nods along with Toby as Toby sings. “When I’m with you I feel like I could die, and that would be alright, alright.”

Toby’s voice cracks at some of the higher and faster points, substituting some of the faster lyrics with jumbled nonsense. But he brings it back when the chorus comes back, softer and a little more agonizing than he remembers it feeling back when he was a kid.

“Rough song choice, kid,” Cabe says, clapping Toby on the back while Toby’s wailing on some notes he should probably be avoiding.

Toby replies by singing, “Goodbye!” at a pitch higher than he can realistically manage.

And then Cabe joins in with the next set of “doo doos,” to Toby’s absolute delight. When Toby brings in another verse, Cabe keeps up the “doo doos” in the background. Toby strums air guitar at the end of the song and, realizes that, for about thirty seconds, he was happy.

He’d half forgotten what it felt like.

“Alright, kid, let’s get you another drink,” Cabe laughs. “Gotta say, that was fun.”

“I told you!” Toby defends. “But actually, I’m really tired.” He yawns. “I got kidnapped today and experienced severe emotional upheaval. I need a nap.”

Cabe nods. “Got it. But I’m staying with you.”

Toby frowns. “Cabe, I know you’re my dad, but you don’t need to babysit me.”

Cabe responds by rolling his eyes. “I know you too well. I don’t want you going gambling or getting yourself hurt. So,” he slaps down twenty bucks on the bar and waves to Emma, “let’s get a move on.”

“See you later, Tobias!” Emma calls, waving.

“She got a thing for you?” Cabe asks, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Because she seems like she could have a thing for you, and Happy’ll kill you if you –”

Toby laughs so hard he starts to feel queasy, and when he looks over at Cabe a moment later, it’s almost like Cabe is ready to pull his hair out.

“She’s a lesbian, Cabe,” Toby manages. “Emma and I bonded one night when Transformers was playing on one of the TVs and we called dibs on Megan Fox at the same time.”

Cabe rolls his eyes. “Hot, dark haired mechanic who rides a bike and looks like she could kick your ass,” he says. “You got a type kid.”

Toby sighs. “I know.” Then something hits him. “Wait, you’ve seen Transformers?”

“It’s giant robots beating the crap out of each other,” Cabe says. “What’s not to love?”

Toby’s got no idea how to respond to that, so he half dozes off in the truck on the ride home, thinking about Happy and touching the pocket where the ring box is sitting. He pulls it out silently, just holding it in his hand. He knows opening it will only break his heart, but he’s tempted to anyway.

“Kid, it’s gonna be okay,” Cabe says quietly. “You’ve got to believe that.”

Toby nods, sitting up and adjusting his hat. “You can’t know that.”

“I don’t have to know to believe it,” Cabe explains. “I’ve got faith in you guys.”

Toby smiles as Cabe parks his car in the lot in front of Toby’s apartment. “I just want to go back to where we were this time two days ago.”

“That’s not possible, Toby,” Cabe says, and Toby would appreciate the honesty if he weren’t dying inside. “But you can build something better, become something greater than what you were before, once you get through this.”

And that’s enough to get Toby out of the car. He fumbles with the keys enough that Cabe snatches them from Toby’s hands and unlocks the door for him, and he’s the one who fills two glasses of water and sets both on Toby’s beside table.

“Cabe, I’m fine,” Toby says, taking a sip of the water. He somehow misses his mouth and pours the water directly down his shirt. The noise he makes is an ungodly squeak that he knows Cabe will mock him for endlessly.

Cabe raises an eyebrow. “Fine, my ass,” he replies. “Go to bed.”

“Wait!” Toby says. “Blankets.” The exhaustion, alcohol, and heartache are blending together to wear him down, but he manages to grab three blankets and a pillow from his linen closet, throwing them at Cabe. “Thank you for catching that,” Toby says, his eyes barely open. “Because there’s no way I could have thrown any better.”

“Go to bed,” Cabe says again, but it’s more gentle this time.

Toby’s too exhausted to change into pajamas, so he pulls his drenched tee shirt off over his head and falls into bed. It feels cold and empty without Happy curled up in his arms, and he falls asleep only because the tequila weighs down his mind.

At first, the knocking integrates into his dreams. Woody the Woodpecker is pecking at his Collins’ head, and Toby’s grinning smugly.

And then the knocking grows louder, and Toby wakes up.

The hangover, shockingly, is mild, mostly exhaustion mixed with defeat – Toby wonders if it’s less of a hangover and more heartbreak.

“I can’t believe he can’t hear that,” Toby says, walking past Cabe while he rubs his eyes. The knocking grows sharper, more urgent. “I should really have him get his ears checked.”

He opens the door, forgetting that he’s shirtless, to see Happy standing there with the expression of a scared child.

“Hi,” she says quietly.

Toby doesn’t know what to say. He just stares at her, in the same clothes as the night before. The only difference is her hair. It’s gone back to its normal curls, and it’s all Toby can do not to brush her hair over her shoulder. She’s beautiful. She broke him.

He's so glad she's here.

Toby thinks she’s read his expression wrong, because she says, “Toby, I understand if you hate me –”

Toby shakes his head. “I could never hate you,” he says, hoping she believes him. “I’m frustrated with you, but –”

He watches Happy’s expression harden to something absolutely terrifying. And then he follows her eyes to where Cabe’s shirt is on the coat rack. On a quick glance, it could be a woman’s jacket.

“What the fuck?” she asks, and it’s the most dangerous this woman has ever sounded. She pushes past him, into his apartment. If Toby weren’t half certain Happy was going to kill Cabe because she thinks he’s Toby’s one night stand, this would be hilarious.

Happy rips the blanket off of where Cabe was asleep on the couch. “Who are –” she says. “Oh.”

Toby nods. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean I’m going to go off and bang some random stranger.” He nods to Cabe. “Cabe and I had some father/son bonding time last night.”

“Stop calling me your dad,” Cabe grumbles.

Happy cools off, but it’s not long before the tone of the room grows dark.

“So,” Toby says, realizing the incredible weight that’s settled on his shoulders. “Want to talk?”

Toby watches as Cabe speedily grabs his things and practically runs out the door.

Happy nods. “I owe you a lot.” She sits down on the couch, on the spot she always claims when she stays here with him, where she’s complained a million times about his curtains and sighed his name a thousand times when their movie night plans got more interesting than just watching a screen.

Toby sits on the other side of the couch. It’s not his space – his space is the one wherever she is – but today he’s keeping the distance. It’s Happy’s job to close it this time.

She’s quiet, watching him like she can read his expression. Toby hasn’t mentioned it to her, but she’s picked up a lot from him over the years. Happy’s ability to read people went from zero to sixty, and he doesn’t even know if she knows it. He’s proud of her for that huge step, but that feeling mixed with the hurt and confusion just sours in his stomach.

“I chose you,” Happy says definitively. “I didn’t choose him. He wasn’t –” She swallows. “Look, he’s not important.”

“Kind of is,” Toby says gently.

Happy shrugs. “I don’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I want to know the details,” Toby says firmly, trying not to let the anger boil over. “Not knowing is how we got into this mess. I can’t help you out of it if you don’t tell me how it got started.”

Happy looks at him – just looks at him. “You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

Toby groans, dropping his head in his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He sits up. “Happy, love of my life isn’t a metaphor. I’m not exaggerating. I want to help because I want to be your husband, if you want me to be. I’m absolutely livid that you weren’t honest with me – but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore. This is real, Happy. I’m not leaving.”

And then, finally, Happy seems to realize that he’s serious. “Oh.”

He nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “So talk to me.”

She takes a deep, steadying breath before beginning. “He was older. Way older. Promised he could keep me safe.” She pauses, scoffing. “Said if I married him, he’d make sure I’d never go back into the foster system.” She curls up on herself. “And since I was in the system, nobody blinked twice when it happened. Nobody tried to stop it.”

Toby frowns. “You were a minor when you got married?” He needs to be calm, he knows that, but the horror welling up in his throat is threatening to spill over into his words. A need to take care of the Happy who would have survived this settling in his heart. But it’s not the time.

Happy nods. “You know the whole government corruption thing?” she asks. “Yeah. You can marry a minor in the state of California if you know the right people.”

The sour pit in his stomach grows for a new reason. He has a million questions to ask, a thousand things to say. But he stays quiet, because this is her job. And he’s worried that, if he starts talking, she’ll never start up again.

“I ran,” Happy says. “I realized he wasn’t,” she winces, “he wasn’t trying to protect me. He took me from foster care because he knew he could.” Toby nods, because there’s nothing else he can do. “He was trying to keep me as this – this prize or something, his little genius who he groomed to be the perfect wife. And one night,” she sighs. “One night, I ran.” She closes her eyes, clearly reliving something that was ripping out the wall that’s kept her protected for this long. Toby’s starting to understand her better – this was the one person who promised her safety, and safety was the last thing on this predator’s mind. “Snuck out the back window when he was asleep with nothing but a backpack.” She goes quiet again, looking surprised that the words came out of her.

“How old were you when you got out?” Toby prompts.

Happy looks at him. “Seventeen."

He forces down the horror in his throat. “You’ve always been a survivor, Happy,” he manages to say.

She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Toby can practically see the war behind her eyes about whether or not to keep the walls up, whether or not she wants to risk opening up further. To Toby’s absolute relief, she keeps talking. “I kept expecting him to find me, because I didn’t have anywhere to go but LA and we were right outside in the suburbs, but he never came.” She plays with the zipper on her jacket. “I always think he’s waiting around a corner when I’m alone, though. I have nightmares that he walks into the garage when I’m alone and I can’t –” She cuts off and begins shivering.

Toby’s watched her have her nightmares, soothed her when she’d woken from them. But she’d never told him what they were about. Now he thinks he knows.

He jolts toward her subconsciously, forgetting that they’re in the middle of the worst conflict either of them has ever had. He’s about to pull away, because he’s fairly certain she’s not ready for this, but then Happy lets out a drawn-out, strangled gasp and reaches for him, her arms like a vice around his shoulders. It’s almost as if she’s trying to hold herself together through holding him, and his arms wrap around her waist as she folds herself in his lap. Toby didn’t realize just how much he’d missed her until he had his arms around her. And he’s in love with her, god he’s in love with her, but there’s also a piece that hurts. Toby knows that the only way to fix this is to get this over with.

“You’re the only place I’ve ever felt safe,” Happy confesses. “I kept expecting you to make me feel unsafe, but you never did.” She holds him tighter. “I’ve never felt at home until I met you.”

It rips Toby’s heart out.

“So were you,” Toby says. “But you need to be honest with me, Happy.” He pulls away just far enough that he can see Happy’s face. “I need to feel safe with you again, okay? I need to trust you. Which means if there’s anything else to this, if there’s anything else period, I need to know.” He holds her face in his hands, hoping it makes her understand how desperately and unconditionally he loves her. “I want you. I love you. But I need to make sure I’m in love with a person who’s not going to drop a bomb on me like that twice a year.”

Happy nods. “I think I can do that.”

“First question,” Toby says. “Where did you go tonight?”

Happy’s expression darkens. “That’s –”

“Nope,” Toby interrupts. “No more walls. If we need to build walls, they’re around the two of us. But I’m your safe space, Happy,” he promises. “I’m your safe space. So trust me.”

She shifts so her head is against his chest, curled into a ball in his lap. It’s moments like these he realizes that she’s so much smaller than her attitude, that he can pick her up with his noodle arms like it’s nothing. It’s no wonder she’s always been so hard and cold – if she ever let the wrong person in, she’d be vulnerable on her size alone.

“I went to see the person who introduced me to him,” she says quietly. “One of the social workers.”

“A sleaze ball, obviously,” Toby says. He runs his fingers through her hair and tries not to think about how convinced he was that he’d never be able to do this again. “And?”

Happy pulls off the gloves Toby hadn’t realized she was wearing. The knuckles on her right hand are cracked and bloodied. “I kind of hit him a few times.”

“Happy!” Toby exclaims. “A few times?”

“A few times,” Happy assures him, not seeming to realize the gravity of her actions. “Enough for him to tell me the last place he knew Granger was staying.” Toby watches her speak the name of her husband, and he reads contempt and fear and disgust in one expression. He’s never seen her look like that – Happy Quinn never gets scared like that. But this is a piece of her he’s never known, and maybe this is where her fear blooms.

Happy throws her gloves over Toby’s shoulder, and he’s fairly certain that she lands them directly in his trash can. “So we have step one.”

“Okay,” Toby says, a little dumbfounded, “ignoring the assault charges you probably narrowly avoided, yes, we have step one.” He blinks. “Christ, you hit him?”

“Only a few times!” Happy insists again. Her expression darkens again. “Plus, for what he let Granger do to me, he deserves it.” She curls up again, and it’s clear that this is about a million other things than just her.

“This happened with other kids too, didn’t it,” Toby says gently.

“Yes,” Happy replies. “All people like Granger, all people who said they’d take care of us and ended up –” Her sentence cuts off sharply, and she buries her face back into Toby’s chest. They’re silent for some time until the tears Toby feels soaking into his shirt subside and Happy’s no longer shaking.

“We’re going to find him, Happy,” Toby reassures her. “No more being afraid to walk around corners.”

“I jump at shadows, Toby,” Happy says quietly. “Whenever I’m alone, I get convinced he’s going to walk out of my closet or crawl out from under my bed and just –” She stops, grabbing him more tightly. “It’s worse, now, that I saw that social worker.”

“It’s going to be okay, Happy,” Toby says firmly. “You’re going to be the monster under his bed and you’re going to make him set you free.”

She nods. “Damn right I am.” And there it is, the spark in her eyes that Toby will fall in love with every time he sees it, replacing the tears. She’s still scared and he’s still horrified, but the spark in her eyes is back. “But for right now, can we just sleep?” She yawns. “I haven’t slept –” She thinks. “Since the night you were kidnapped, actually.”

“You can’t sleep without me?” Toby asks, touched.

Happy shrugs. He’s expecting her defensive deflection, a joke. Instead, Happy says, “No. I can’t.” She meets his eyes. “Toby, I love you. You know that, right?”

He frowns. “I had,” he searches for the right word, “the inkling. But you’ve never said it.”

“But now I have,” Happy replies. “And I mean it.”

And she kisses him. It’s slow, meaningful, an apology and a declaration in one move. There’s more behind it, somehow, than any kiss they’ve shared in the past. More than their first kiss, filled with desperation and god-finally. More than their kiss on the beach, full of anticipation and excitement and hope. More than the day they fell together after they nearly froze together, filled with I-almost-lost-you and I’m-yours.

This kiss is lingering and longing, hope and pessimism, the fear of the past and the prayer for a future, all in one.

“I love you,” Toby says. “Until I can’t forget how.”

“Until I can’t forget how,” Happy repeats. And, Toby thinks, they can keep those promises through all of this.

"So," Toby says, running his fingers through her hair, "what's next?"

“Sleep,” Happy replies, standing, taking his hand. “But then, when we wake up,” her expression is set, resolute. “I have a lot of things to take care of.”

“We,” Toby corrects. “We have a lot of things to take care of.”

Toby makes her clean up her hands so he can examine for bruising or fractures, but the injuries are superficial cuts and nothing else. He gives her bandaids and a kiss to the top of each hand for good measure, and she doesn’t even roll her eyes at the gesture.

He falls into bed first and Happy curls up in his arms, her head on his chest as he wraps his arms around her and pulls the comforter over her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this alone, Happy.”

“Yeah,” Happy replies quietly. Her hands are freezing as they draw circles into his chest, but he doesn’t mind. At least she’s here and she’s safe. He can be angry at her again when they wake up, when he explains to her that this doesn’t mean forgiveness and it doesn’t mean he’s not shattered. But first, they need to sleep.

Everything’s better after a long sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She’d been so still Toby had thought she’d fallen asleep. “I understand if you’ll never forgive me or if you don’t want to – to marry me anymore.”

Toby mulls the words over in his head. “It’ll come,” he says quietly. “Forgiving you for keeping this from me, I mean. But we’ll get through this, and forgiving you will come when it’s all worked out and with time. But Happy,” he kisses the top of her head, “Happy, I want to marry every single version of you I can imagine. I’m frustrated and feeling a little blindsided and a lot like I’ve been lied to, but I still love you.”

Happy nods. “I should have told you,” she mumbles, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.” She takes a deep breath. “I should have said something.”

“Yes, you should have,” Toby replies, because being honest is the only way to get through this. “But you didn’t, so we have to fix it another way.”

Happy pulls the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, burying them in a kind of cocoon. “And we will,” Happy says. He can hear a smile in her voice when she says, “And maybe next time I’ll get to propose to you.”

“I’d like that,” Toby decides, smiling himself. “One step at a time, though,” he says. “We’ve got another marriage to dissolve before we start thinking about ours.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want something else, to get me through this  
> Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby  
> I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye  
> Doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo.


End file.
